


A Twine to Hold

by AntigravityDevice



Category: Elfquest
Genre: Gen, Kings of the Broken Wheel, Multi, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntigravityDevice/pseuds/AntigravityDevice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Rayek takes the palace away in Kings of the Broken Wheel. Cutter trees with Nightfall and Redlance, and a new kind of family is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Twine to Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sister Coyote (sister_coyote)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_coyote/gifts).



It is late in the season of long sun, and in their new holt the Wolfriders are even closer to the warm rays, in the softly rustling canopy. The birds are near, the insects different from their previous holts, and their steps are silent. It's difficult for the two Go-Backs, but if Skot and Krim are to be part of the tribe, the chief's ways must be their ways. They're adjusting. They all are.

The perch outside the den is shaded by the leaves and the branches, but Nightfall senses that the sun is about to set. It's her time, the twilight: time for hunting, for dancing, for pleasure. Her tribe name is true. She puts aside her knife and the rough shape she's managed to coax out of the tusk in her hand. It came from a strange prey, similar to the docile boar-creatures she's seen in the desert, but much bigger, wilder. Plentiful meat for the pack, once enough arrows had pierced its thick skin. She's good with a knife, but for piercing the throat of her prey, not for bringing its likeness back to life. Redlance will make their cub far more beautiful playthings, but she wants to create something, too. It's so difficult sometimes to wait. Two more seasons of white-cold, how can she bear it? Eyes must meet her cubling's eyes. Will they be as gentle as an afternoon breeze, like Redlance's? She must know. They've waited so long, Redlance and she. And oh, how they need new life now. Her chief-friend needs it, to find strength in himself again.

It was Nightfall who put meat in front of Cutter, day after hollow day, and where Redlance's kind words failed, her insistence finally triumphed. She is of an age with Cutter, saw him grow up into a stubborn lad who became a stubborn chief. She knows him, and while she can't bring back the family he's lost, she knows perhaps the best of all how to remind Cutter that he's not alone, now that Skywise isn't there to talk sense into him. She misses Skywise, and she misses Leetah, too, the friend of her soul, who has made her dream of a family come true. Nightfall's den is filled with love, her furs are warm, and her belly full; when she sees Cutter falling into loneliness she can think of nothing else but inviting him in and sharing all her blessings with him.

And it's brought a flicker of life back into Cutter, treeing with them, she can see that. Warmth grows in the sharing. Redlance, her dear Ulm, he was the one who taught her that, with his gentle, selfless ways. How he grows around Cutter now, like a soft vine, watching him when Nightfall's eyes are elsewhere, catching him when her hand isn't quick enough. Her dear one, hope blossoming around him. Their bond is strong, strong enough for chosen Recognition, an unheard and wondrous thing, but sharing has always suited them. When the furs are warm and the fires blown out, their fingers twine over Cutter's sleeping skin, and three hearts touch.

It stirs a memory in her, now, as she waits for the others to awaken and start preparing for tonight's hunt. Once, when she was little more than a cub and played at being lovemates with Cutter, she felt a stirring within herself. Could she have Recognized him, all those years ago? How different life could have been, had she but given in. They would have undoubtedly driven each other howling mad. Perhaps she knew, even then, that while their lives were meant to be intertwined, it wasn't to happen that way. Her love for Cutter made it easy to love Leetah when she came to know her. Recognition can unite more than two souls. Nightfall has her family because of Leetah's sweet magic and sweeter friendship, and in return, Leetah's family feels as close as hers. 

A stab of loss in her gut. Leetah's cubs were precious to Nightfall.

Are, she corrects herself. The twins will be back in their sire's arms one day. She must hope it to be true. The she-wolf in her finds solace in fierce protectiveness. Gentle Suntop, so gifted and so wise for his years. And Ember, all brash and bristles; how easy to see Cutter in her. With her gone, it's like that piece is missing from Cutter, too, that carefree cub swinging from the branches. Her thoughts stray to her own unborn child again, and her palm rests on her flat stomach. Perhaps the cub will bring back something that was lost.

"Nightfall?" Redlance emerges from their den, pulling on his leathers. His words whisper in her mind only. "Listen."

The rustling of leaves in the wind and the buzz of night-time insects are close to Nightfall's ear, but somewhere in the forest, a bird-hoot can be heard, like a distant flute.

"A speckletail," Redlance whispers aloud, sitting down next to her. "First sign of the end of the season. Leaves might change colour early."

"Long hunt tonight, then. The white-cold shouldn't catch us unprepared."

He smiles, affectionately, and even his sending feels like a caress. "You echo our chief's words."

She touches his cheek. "He's awake?"

"Yes." His hand closes warmly around hers, for a moment, before they stand up, sure-footed on a familiar branch. "He didn't awake from a nightmare, Twen."

Hope jumps up in her like a sleek fish from a pond. She looks into Redlance's eyes, where she sees her own joy echoed, and goes to Cutter. A good hunt will send his blood rushing. The joy of stealing through the forest, thighs clapped against a wolf's warm back, the scent of prey like a promise in the air, their arrows true, their blades clever. The heat of blood on the tongue, the strong, victorious howls. The glorious Now of Wolf-Thought.

When the elfin soul of her would linger on thoughts of the wheels of time, and the cruel distances they bring, the wolf in her bares her teeth and says: enough. Tonight the moons watch over the hunt. Her tribe will feed. All will be well.

***

Dawn is close, too close, but Redlance's pouch isn't quite full, and the rain has brought down the capnuts his daughter loves. In the thicket, he feels safe; all living vines, branches, leaves, flowers are ready to leap to his defence, should there be need. The wet season is upon them, and his poor Goodleap splutters and shakes his fur in the downpour, patiently waiting for him to be done with his gathering. He picks up two more fistfuls, and wolf-sends him close. It's not in him to see another suffer for his whims.

The pack is holt-hidden from the rain, settling in for the day. Clearbrook's scale-silver head pokes out. She asks him quietly to look to the heavy branches above her and Treestump's den. A storm is gathering, and it might bring one of them down, repeating the cruel past. Redlance was still Redmark when Rillfisher was lost to them, but he remembers the lines grief drew on Treestump's brave face. No one dies of a branch in a holt of his shaping. There have been enough losses. Redlance's hands close around the branch as his shaping flows through the tree, reminding it to hold on to its limbs. How exhilarating it is, to be so needed, to feel the heartbeat of his home with all his magic and all his soul.

Their den is dry, and thick pelts meet his soaked body as he finally throws himself inside. The lamp is lit, the furs spread. Little Tyleet looks up from the ravvit she's been petting, and her smile is like bee-sweets.

"Father! You're soaked through!"

Cutter catches the ravvit when it jumps from her lap, frightened by the noise. "All this rain is not good for the pack, or the hunting. Did you see any humans, Redlance?"

Nightfall helps Redlance out of his leathers, so the closeness can warm his skin. He sighs contentedly, his fingers and toes tingling. "Not a sign, my chief."

"They are frightened of skyfire, this tribe," Nightfall says, and wraps warm furs over Redlance's shoulders. "When a storm passes over they won't even look to their traps. I caught easy meat when I checked them with Moonshade. Burrowers have especially soft hides, she says. And they are most often caught in human traps."

Tyleet climbs over Cutter's lap to find her ravvit-friend, who has disappeared into the furs. "Burrowers have nasty teeth, nasty teeth, nasty teeth," she sings, their little songbird, and dives under the nearest pelt.

Cutter smiles at her, perhaps seeing another daughter, many seasons lost. Redlance thought he knew sorrow when he watched Cutter toss and turn in the furs, tormented by his dreams and his memories, but now that he's a father himself, he can truly grasp what Cutter's lost. Losing his little bird, their treasured gift, would be like losing a limb. And Cutter, he's lost his cubs, his lifemate, the brother of his soul. How many limbs can an elf do without?

"Ulm?" Nightfall's mind touches his in a locked sending. She has seen his thoughtful stare. A smile reassures her, and she returns to her sharpening stone.

Suddenly, a lower voice joins Tyleet's, picking up the melody where she has left it. "The tall plants grow with their sharp spines. Only Redlance knows how they twist and twine..."

Both Redlance and Nightfall glance at Cutter in astonishment. Since they came to this holt, his voice has been hushed, and his howls have been few. Outside, rain taps against the tree trunk in encouragement.

"He makes them dance while they're standing still... In magic shapes, bent all by his will."

In Redlance's mind, all living things hold potential of sprouting new growth, buds and flowers. To hear his chief sing opens a blossom of hope, fragile but fragrant. It's a joy more reassuring than even the warmth and unity of joinings.

Tyleet's fox-red mane appears from the furs. "I haven't heard that song at any of the howls!"

Cutter pulls her onto his lap, and pets her hair like she did to the ravvit. "Suntop used to sing it. It was his song for your father."

She snuggles close to Cutter, happy to be held. Their well-loved cub, so ready to trust. "His howl wasn't like yours, though, was it? It was like mine. Clear."

"Yes," Nightfall says, quietly, and then she sends, because these memories are precious and true. "Suntop was your age, my cubling, when he made up that song. Your father could make the desert of Leetah's Sun Village sprout fearsome vines, to keep us safe."

They are all swept away by the memory of hot sands, jackal-wolves, shade and sweet water. Tyleet drinks in their sending, admiring the birthplace of the twins she's never met but feels strongly through Cutter. Redlance wonders if she thinks of them as tribe brothers and sisters, or as characters in a tale, too far for her to grasp.

When they all lie down for the day Tyleet climbs over Nightfall to snuggle close to Cutter. She has a belly full of capnuts and fire dances in her bright eyes. "Tell me about Suntop and Ember," she asks, so softly. No one in the pack can refuse her, their sweet little cub, but she must yearn for the company of other cublings sometimes.

There's a silence in their den for a few heartbeats. "I will," Cutter says, and his knuckles touch Nightfall's cheek even as his other hand closes around Redlance's. "If your parents will help me, I will lock-send and share them with you."

Redlance moves close, his breath touching the shoulder of his chief-friend. His mind finds Nightfall's, always, and Tyleet's, gathering them close. The den fills with memories, slowly, the four of them combining sounds and colours for one, beautiful whole.

It's warm in their den, even though outside it continues to rain, and huntress Skyfire chases all humans into their huts while their family sleeps and is contented.

***

Bright lights -- stone under his hands -- one wrenching moment, one flash that leaves stars in his eyes, and they're gone, gone forever from his grasp.

Cutter jolts awake, like he has countless times, and feels the crushing grip of loss. His breath mists in the dark as his chest heaves. Ground, he's on the ground. He feels the chill of stone under the pelt he's lying on, and there's smoke of a low fire in the air. It takes a moment for him to remember. The now can sometimes be more distant than the past. He knows in his wolf blood how wrong it is, but can't make it stop. A part of him lives elsewhere, in another time.

He rises and shakes the nightmare off him as he gathers his leathers and pulls on his boots. Kahvi slumbers on, furs thrown carelessly over her pale skin; a Go-Back accustomed to the chill of white-cold. Cutter arranges the fox furs to cover her better, and she sighs happily in her sleep. He leaves on silent feet.

Snow covers the forest floor in a thick pelt, as clouds cover the stars. It's already dark, but that means little in white-cold. The humans are still awake. They venture closer and closer to the holt, and they make crude paths through the forest for more of their kind to follow. But so far, his Wolfriders are safe and hidden in the trees. He doesn't know if he'd feel so protective over them if his family was here, Leetah, Skywise and the cubs. He's always been a watchful chief, more so than his father. Bearclaw relied on nothing but his wolf-instincts. Cutter doesn't have it in him to do so. He has too many questions, too many memories.

Tyleet and Venka are perched on a branch, close enough for shared, muffled giggles. Their breath mists into one cloud in the crisply cold air. They've both grown so fast, albeit into very different young maidens. Where Tyleet could sweet-talk a lump of ice, Venka prefers silence and thoughtfulness. But as the only cubs in the tribe, they've found common ground. From their overheard chatter, it mostly concerns daydreaming of possible future lovemates.

Ember would be with them, if she were here, laughing the loudest.

They grow quiet when he climbs past them. "Sorry," Venka sends, dutifully.

Cutter nods. It's sometimes strange to look Venka in the eye. Both Rayek and Kahvi look back, and neither are easy opponents in a staring match. "You two are up early."

"It's too dark to sleep," Tyleet explains, crossing her slender ankles. "Father and mother are awake, too."

The wolves are restless for a hunt as well, but Cutter won't risk it. He turns around to see Nightfall climb out of her den. She must've sensed her wolf-friend pacing to and fro on the forest floor. Redlance is never far behind her, although his eyes are still a little foggy with sleep. He shivers in his winter furs. Cutter offers him a hand, but he smiles and shakes his head, climbing up to him and Tyleet.

Venka leaps down, sending something to Tyleet that makes her giggle. The four of them sit down on the same branch in easy companionship and watch the clouds scatter, the moons and the stars finding mirrors in their eyes. Tyleet leans her head on Redlance's shoulder; Nightfall nudges Cutter's foot with hers.

"Bright stars tonight," she says in whisper. "And the moons are all but full. A clear night for a howl, isn't it, Cutter?"

Cutter mumbles something in reply. There's only one thing the stars will ever remind him of, a brother long lost. He can't remember now all the shapes and stories Skywise could find up there. He wonders if the sky is the same where his soul brother looks at it.

"And if tonight is to be Pike's old Half-Ear's last hunt," Redlance sends, "we would do well to howl for him."

"Poor Half-Ear." Tyleet sighs, and her gentle eyes look up at her parents, then at Cutter. "He may not hear it, but I'd like to sing a song for him anyway."

Cutter has to drag his thoughts back to the Now, and they know, he can see it in them. Nightfall's eyes grow warm and sad, and she leans close. They all do, gathering him up with their closeness like a cub who needs comfort. They are a family, closely-knit, and that is a strength that shines. For a while, it engulfs him and holds him.

For a while.


End file.
